On Afflicting the Comfortable....

I have a love/hate relationship with American civil religion: as a subject of academic study, I love it, and as a citizen, I hate it.  Civil religion can bring people together, but it can also be ridiculously divisive.  At its best, civil religion allows people of disparate faiths to unite under one banner; at worst, it becomes a narrowly defined checklist of what is and is not American.  What we saw tonight in the auditorium of the Newtown, CT High School was an exemplar of what civil religion can and ought to be. 

But there’s more.  There’s always more.  Martin Marty argues that there are two kinds of civil religion: the priestly and the prophetic.  Tonight, President Obama, as “Comforter in Chief,” showcased the priestly—the quasi-official civil religion, often exemplified by the president in times of crisis.  There is also the prophetic—the type of civil religion which calls Americans back to their higher ideals.  Both of these can, and when used in a positive manner do, “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.”  Tonight, the interfaith prayer vigil, the words offered, the scriptures read, the speeches given…all of these comforted those afflicted by unspeakable tragedy.  But the president’s words gave us a hint of what is to come, what ought to come: afflicting the comfortable.

Who are the comfortable here?  They are legion.  They can be found on both ends of our political spectrum, worried about any number of issues: guns, mental health, education.  People whose positions have become so entrenched that they simply cannot grasp that someone might have a reasonable opinion contrary to their own.  Inaction in this situation would be the greatest political sin.  We will not save the world.  We will not put an end to violence in this country or in the world.  But we should try.

I don’t have children of my own, and I can’t fathom what the parents who lost children must be feeling right now, but I do have a nephew who will turn two on New Years’ Eve and a niece who will be a year old three days after that.  They are both happy children, always smiling and laughing, often getting into trouble, but the apple of their parents’ eye (and Aunt Steph’s too).  My world is a better place because of them.  It is because of them and all of the children like them who are likewise the apples of their parents’ eyes that we should demand of our leaders that they afflict the comfortable, and that we, as citizens, should afflict our leaders because they have become the comfortable.  To quote one of the great priests of the American civil religion, Josiah Bartlet (given voice by Aaron Sorkin), “We can do better and we will do better and we must do better.”

On the God I serve not being an jerk….

We’ve heard it all before.  In fact, people have been spouting this crap since 1962.  “The Supreme Court kicked God out of public schools!”  I call B.S.  In fact, I have a degree that makes me uniquely qualified to call B.S.  Even still, this was the basis of the reprehensible argument Brian Fischer made today on his radio show for American Family Radio for the school shooting in Newtown, CT.  Fischer, in what is perhaps the single worst example of theodicy known to man, suggested that God “allowed” this tragic event to occur because He’s a gentleman and as such, “God is not going to go where he is not wanted.”  Before I get to the horrible theodicy encapsulated in this statement, allow me a brief history lesson.

In 1962, the Supreme Court handed down a 6-1 ruling on the case Engel v. Vitale, which outlawed government-written prayers in public schools as a violation of the Establishment Clause of the First Amendment.  To fundamentalists like Fischer, this is when the government kicked prayer out of public schools.  A year later, the Court ruled on Abington v. Schempp which outlawed the devotional reading of the Bible in public schools.  Strike two.  These two cases, taken together, are proof to fundamentalists that God has been kicked out of public schools. 

I’ve always thought that anyone who holds this opinion must believe in a pretty wussy God.  I don’t think a temporal body like the Supreme Court could ever push an all-powerful God out of any place He wasn’t particularly keen on leaving.  Furthermore, God watches over His flock, so where the children of God are, so shall he be.  (See John 10:28-9; Psalm 23:4)  Neither of these rulings was designed to be hostile to God; rather they exist because this nation has always been designed, with regard to religion, to privilege none and disparage none.  Thus creating a free and open religious environment where even idiots like Brian Fischer are allowed to spout their particularly hateful brand of religion.

More importantly than the bad history and mis-reading of the First Amendment and various Supreme Court decisions, Fischer is guilty of some seriously BAD theology.  There’s a word for what Fischer was attempting (quite badly) to do; we call it “theodicy.”  Theodicy is an explanation for the presence of evil the world in light of a belief in an all-knowing, all-powerful God.  Augustine believed that evil exists as an abuse of humanity’s free will.  From a sociological view, Peter Berger says that theodicy is necessary for a society to create order from chaos. 

Theodicy isn’t easy, especially in light of an event so tragic.  I know I don’t have any solid explanations for why someone would open fire in a classroom full of kindergarteners.  But I feel pretty comfortable in suggesting that Brian Fischer’s explanation is total crap: God is a gentleman and, therefore, won’t go somewhere He isn’t wanted.  I return you to my previous statement that God keeps an eye on His children, even in the midst of evil (“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, Thou art with me.”  Psalm 23:4).

The bad theodicy of Fischer and others (Jerry Falwell, for example, tried to pin 9/11 on all sorts of groups he didn’t agree with politically) has its roots in the Deuteronomic view of affliction as a just punishment for sin (see, for example, Deuteronomy 28:15).  Psalm 1 says “the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked shall perish (vs. 6).”  However, this is not the last word on theodicy in the Old Testament.  Jeremiah accused God, not of cursing the wicked, but allowing them to thrive (12:1-2).  Perhaps the ultimate Biblical example of an explanation of evil is the Book of Job.  Job is described as upright and blameless, a man who feared the Lord (1:1).  Yet, he was afflicted by God, and in the midst of his suffering, directly contradicted the Deuteronomic explanation, saying that the Lord “destroys both the blameless and the wicked (9:22).”  As Christians, we accept the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ as the ultimate answer to the problem of evil: The resurrection story is God’s final answer, the ultimate story of conquering evil.

The more troubling aspect of Fischer’s explanation of the events today is how he twists and abuses scripture to make political hay.  Brian Fischer has a definite political point of view, and his asinine statement today is more reflective of THAT than it is of any theological viewpoint.  In fact, I would guess that Fischer couldn’t provide any kind of scriptural basis for his position, only a political basis.  However, should Fischer be able to provide some sort of theological underpinning for his view, I would be 100% comfortable in saying that the God Brian Fischer purports to worship is not the God I serve, for the simple reason that the God I follow isn’t a jerk.  He doesn’t point and laugh and sit back and watch as 20 5-year-olds are slaughtered. 

Brian Fischer and others believe with unrestrained certainty that their interpretation of the Word of God is absolutely correct, ignoring all of the contradictions and troubling passages and episodes that make us uncomfortable.  So desirous of a set-in-stone position, both theologically and politically, they have shrunk God, putting Him into an impossibly small package that looks suspiciously like themselves.  This is perhaps the gravest of modern sins—turning one’s own beliefs into an idol, then stubbornly holding tight to those positions, even when doing so makes them sound like unrepentant idiots.

I don’t know why this tragedy occurred today.  I have no words to comfort the families of the victims or the survivors.  But I know that even as I wrestle with why something like this could happen and I admit freely that I have difficulty reconciling this kind of evil with an all-powerful, loving God, I know that God is with them, with us all.  He heals the broken hearted and comforts those who mourn.  I pray that all those affected may feel a peace the passes all understanding.  God bless them.

An Open Letter to Well-Meaning Friends and Others Who Have Decided That I Need a Life:

So, apparently, one’s 20s are like a hung-over baby shower. I wish I could take credit for that analogy, but it’s not mine. It came from Jonathan Tran’s sermon this morning at Calvary. Recovery from the glory days of college and a longing for whatever comes next (marriage, a white picket fence, and 2.5 kids). But seldom does anyone stop to enjoy where they are in the moment. That period of singleness and trying to figure out what one wants to be if one grows up is a time not to be embraced, but endured. Unfortunately, churches in America fall into the same trap as the rest of us. By worshipping at the altar of the nuclear family, churches tend to equate, however unconsciously, marriage with holiness and closeness to God. This is not a helpful understanding of church and community, much less a biblical standard of holiness. It is, however, the reality that many such as myself find ourselves dealing with.

Let me be clear here. I don’t think Calvary is the rule in this. In many ways, it is the exception, in no small measure due to people like Jonathan Tran and his lovely wife, Carrie, who have made it their mission to pour into the 20-somethings in the church, offering us a safe place where we can vent our frustrations, worry about our futures, and rest—yes, rest. Psalm 37, from which much of Jonathan’s sermon was inspired, says “Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:3-4). These verses do not point to work as Americans frequently understand it, but to listening to, being attuned to, being aware of the presence of God. This is work properly ordered. Rest in the Lord, then do the good that the Lord has placed in front of you.

I can say, as one who has survived all but the last 5 months of my 20s at this point, that I have probably needed more rest over the last decade than at any other point in my life. I can also safely say that I have gotten less rest in the same time period than at any other time in my life. By rest, I—like the Psalmist—am not necessarily talking about sleep (though I did save all of my all-nighters for graduate school). I’m talking about a space where I can be among friends who will help me bear the burdens of this long, strange trip from being a kid to being a “grown up”—whatever that means; a place where I am understood; a place where I can tell the stories of my life and have people say, “Me too.” I have not had this kind of rest for much of my 20s because I haven’t had a church where those kinds of things were okay.

A funny thing happened once I graduated from Baylor. People started asking, with much greater frequency, if I was dating, when I was going to start dating, or if being done with my PhD now meant that I could have “a life.” I have been bewildered and, frankly, quite frustrated by these inquiries. First of all, anyone who knows me, even just a little, knows that I’ve never had “a life,” as that phrase seems to be commonly understood (dating, going out, etc.). I wouldn’t know what “a life” was unless it came up to me and introduced itself. But what is truly irritating, downright disheartening, is the implication behind these questions. Who I am in this place in my life, what I have accomplished, what I still want to accomplish—none of that is good enough if I haven’t found “The One.” I guess I got a free pass while I was writing my dissertation. People have often joked of being married to their dissertation. Married friends have called their spouse’s dissertation a “mistress.” But apparently being done with my dissertation meant it was time to get to the real business of life: marriage and procreation—hopefully in that order.

My church attendance last semester was spotty at best. Most of the time, I just didn’t feel like it was worth it to go. I was frustrated and angry, but I couldn’t quite figure out why. It wasn’t until this morning during Jonathan’s sermon that I realized what was wrong. I had bought into all the nonsense. As a single woman, approaching 30, with 2 cats, but no romantic prospects, I was on the precipice of becoming the stereotype: the crazy old cat lady. What did I have to offer the church? What did I have to offer anyone? And it made me angry—both at the world and at myself. Why wasn’t I good enough? Just me. No husband, no kids except the 4-legged, furry kind. Why couldn’t that be enough for people? And then I was angry at myself. Why did I allow myself to believe all of that?

This morning, Jonathan reminded us that for the early church, singleness, not marriage and family, was the preferred paradigm. He also reminded us that our mission, our vocation, our goal should be to be all that we are in Christ, not in marriage. We as a community of believers should help bear one another’s burdens. The modern church has uplifted the marriage covenant at the expense of the Church. One’s husband or wife is to be the one to bear one’s burdens. This is really unfair to spouses, by the way. Why make one person put up with all of your crap alone? That’s just wrong. It’s also not what God envisioned. The marriage covenant is important—of course it is. But it is not, nor was it ever intended to be, the most important thing in the lives of believers. If the community of believers has broken down, the answer is not to throw one’s hands up and say, “Well, never mind. Just get married instead.” The answer is to fix the community; this is the work of all who live in the community—single, married, with children or without, widows, children.

So I say to all of my friends and other well-meaning folks in my life who have inquired about my timeline for getting “a life:” I have one. And it is rich and fulfilling, occasionally frustrating and worrisome, but full of friends and fun—even with my cats (two men, by the way, destined to never leave the toilet seat up or hog the TV or make me pick up their socks). I am enough all by myself. I don’t know if I’m in a place where I can say that with as much confidence as I would like, and that’s why I need my friends not to ask when I’m going to get “a life” but how life is going. I deserve to be surrounded by people who see me as whole and complete just the way I am, and they deserve the same in return from me. There will be no more suggestions of internet dating or blind dates or “putting yourself out there.” God has a plan for me today and tomorrow and the next day and the next. That plan may include a guy who enjoys Broadway musicals and football in equal measure and who isn’t afraid to look me in the eye and tell me I’m full of shit, or it may not. That’s okay, because I have plenty of friends who enjoy either Broadway musicals or football, and no matter in which camp they fall, none of them are afraid to tell me I’m full of it.

I am thankful and incredibly blessed to have people who care about my well-being—even if their inquiries occasionally drive me nuts. I have friends who love me, a niece and a nephew who are pretty perfect, a family that supports me, and a church that has meant more to me that words can possibly express. I am blessed, I am loved, and I am a child of God. That’s all I need to be complete.